by Amanda Aksel
I take the elevator up to the sixth floor, the home of Bonnaire Capital. When the doors open, I’m faced with a large reception desk. A young woman wearing a headset greets me with a welcoming smile.
“Good morning, how can I help you?” she asks.
“I’m here to see Jacqueline Peters.” I'm a bundle of nerves as I prepare myself for the news that she’s not here.
“Sure,” she says and points behind her with an arrow-straight arm. “Follow this hall down and take a left, then take the first hall on the right and you’ll find her assistant.”
Whew! Sounds like she’s here. “Thanks.”
I follow her directions and come upon another young woman sitting behind a desk. She stands, greeting me with a toothy smile. “You must be Elizabeth McKenna.”
“Liz, yes.” I shake her hand.
“I’m Maddie, Jacqueline’s assistant. We’ve spoken a few times.”
“Oh, right. Nice to meet you. Is Jacqueline here? I missed her yesterday at the networking event.”
Maddie gives me the bad-news cringe. “Ms. McKenna, didn’t you get the message I left for your assistant last night?”
I shake my head. “My assistant just had a baby. She’s on maternity leave.”
“So you didn’t get the message?”
“Obviously not. What happened?” My stomach churns and my palms begin to sweat.
“Jacqueline was in a skiing accident this past weekend. She broke her leg in two places. She’s in a hospital in Switzerland.”
I gasp, covering my mouth. Poor Jacqueline. “Oh, my God! Is she going to be okay?”
“Yes, the doctors say that she’ll make a full recovery. But, of course, she won’t be back in the office before you leave next week.”
Dammit, dammit, dammit! I hate wasting time. “So what am I supposed to do now?”
Maddie flashes a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Ms. McKenna. We’ve just reassigned your case to another associate. As a matter of fact, he’s the head of the division. So you’ll be in good hands.” She over-exaggerates the word “good,” as if I’m lucky to be upgraded to the top dog. But nothing about this situation feels lucky. Jacqueline and I have been talking for weeks, putting together a very detailed plan and agenda for my trip. I doubt someone can just walk in and take over without setting us back at least a week. And there’s no way I’m staying here through Christmas. For the first time in two years, my mom and I will get to spend the holidays together.
“Am I meeting with him today?” I better be. I did not get up this morning against my jetlagged will and layer on coat after coat of concealer for nothing.
“Yes. He’ll be with you shortly. In the meantime, you can work in the conference room. Let me show you in.”
Letting out a defeated sigh, I try not to look too upset. I’m sure Jacqueline wishes she could be here instead of lying in a hospital bed in a foreign country. “Fine.”
“Great! Come with me.”
I follow Maddie down the hall and notice how much pep she has in her step, compared to me. What I wouldn’t do for a burst of energy. In the large conference room, a window stretches across the far wall, framing the city of London and the surrounding white walls look dingy against the gray sky. I sit down at the long, oval-shaped, ebony-stained table.
“Can I get you something to drink? Perhaps some tea?” Maddie asks.
“A cup of coffee would be great.” I already had two espressos at the hotel, and so far neither has kicked in.
“Sure, I’ll go and fetch you some.” She leaves me with the Wi-Fi passcode and trots off to get my brew. I organize my laptop, phone, and tablet neatly on the table and immediately pull up my calendar, email, and project list. Then, just as I’m about to call my office, I realize that my entire team is still dreaming away in their cozy beds. I set the phone aside and blow out a breath.
Ten minutes later, Mr. Head of the Division still hasn’t shown his face. What if we don’t click? My stomach twists in knots, and I’m beginning to regret using a VC all the way in England when I could have gone with one in my own backyard or even New York. But Bonnaire Capital was the best for the job. And that’s what I want for my business. The best. Not to mention, Jacqueline and I are like two peas in a pod. She’s strong where I’m . . . not as strong, and vice versa.
Maddie brings me a steaming cup of Joe with a few packets of sugar and single creamer shots on the side. “It shouldn’t be much longer. Enjoy the coffee.”
“Thanks.” I dump one of the creamers into the steaming cup, and the color changes to a soft beige. Looks a little light. I take a sip.
Yuck! Might as well have gotten tea.
I push the mug aside and begin clicking away on my laptop, jotting notes with my tablet and glancing periodically at my phone for calls or texts, which again never come because the US is sleeping. Nearly half an hour later, the guy still hasn’t shown up. What’s taking him so long? I bet he’s too busy being the head of the division. That’s all I need, some guy with split focus. So far, this arrangement sucks.
Finally, I spot someone out of the corner of my eye wearing a blue suit. He enters the room and I look up. “Hello, Ms. McKenna, sorry to—”
I jump to my feet as I gape at the familiar shoulders and broad chest filling out that suit jacket all too well. His hair is impeccable, just like last night, and his smile is distant. Polite. But it’s him—“Kent?”
“Liz?” His smile falters and he gawks at me, looking about as baffled as I feel.
The two of us stare at one another as if trying to put the pieces together. Eventually, I avert my eyes looking for the hidden camera. How can this be? Kent is the head of Bonnaire Capital? So it turns out the guy in finance is my financier?
“You’re Elizabeth McKenna?”
As if I could be someone else. “Yep.” And you’re the guy I made out with last night. This is not what I meant by fun.
“The owner of Solids?”
“That’s me.”
“Well,” he lets out an incredulous laugh, adjusting his cuff links, “this is unexpected.”
“You’re telling me. You’re Kent . . .” I gesture for more information with my hand.
“Bonnaire.”
“Bonnaire. As in Bonnaire Capital?” I squint in thought, chewing my bottom lip, and then it all clicks. The wine. The driver. The call from his dad summoning him to the office. “And this is your family business?”
“Mmhmm.” He nods, rocking on his heels.
I plop back in my chair, folding my arms over my chest. “So, what now?” Can I work with a man who’s had his tongue down my throat? There’s a first time for everything.
He comes around the table and sits in the chair next to mine. “Perhaps I should assign someone else to your case, so that it’s not awkward.”
“You mean because we made out last night?” The scent of his cologne hovers near and my mind flashes back to last night in the car. My lower region wakes up like it’s now on London time.
“Yeah, I think that’ll be for the best.”
I nod, thinking that I came here for the best. And if he’s it, I’m not letting him go.
“So,” he slaps his hand on the table as if we’re adjourned, “I’ll have your case reassigned.” Kent rises to his feet, his crotch now at eye level. Turns out, this inconvenient coincidence has done nothing to curb my curiosity about what's inside his pants. “Liz?”
My thoughts refocus and I shake my head. “Hold on, I haven’t agreed to that.” I type Kent Bonnaire—Bonnaire Capital into the browser search bar on my laptop and wait for the results to load.
“I don’t think—”
“Dat-dat-dat,” I sound, raising my hand and keeping my eyes on the screen. “Give me a minute, would you?” His bio on the Bonnaire website appears on the screen, and I stare at his photo for a few seconds too long before reading. Damn, he’s sexy. “Impressive,” I say, still reading. “Top of your class at Oxford. And wow . . . you’ve handled all the big-name c
ompanies.”
He stands resolutely with his hands on his hips. “Yes, but—”
“You know what?” I lean back in my chair, crossing my legs and scrutinizing my buddy in the three-piece suit. “I think this was meant to be. You’re by far the best person for the job. Plus, we already know we have . . . chemistry.” My brow arches and my lips purse in a sensual smirk. “Between your expertise and my relentlessness, we’re going to turn Solids into the fastest-growing online clothing retailer in the world.” And that’s what I need to make all those late, lonely nights worth it.
Pushing myself out of the leather high-back chair, I stand tall in my three-inch boots, getting close enough to see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. “So, what do you think? You wanna make some money, Mr. Bonnaire?”
His gaze falls to my mouth for a brief second. And if the front of the conference room weren't made of glass, I’d pick up where we left off last night, business be damned. Kent parts his lips, shifting his jaw like he can’t decide what to do next. “I guess we can give it a go.”
He doesn’t sound convinced. But his verbal agreement is good enough for me. I look him up and down, slowly from the top of his broad shoulders to his brown leather shoes, then back up to that adorable dimple in his chin. “Good.” I whip around, almost smacking my long locks in his handsome, clean-shaven face. “Well, listen, I’d love to stay and get you up to speed, but I have got to get some decent coffee.” I pack up my devices and swing my bag over my shoulder. “Why don’t I come back this afternoon? Give you a chance to review Jacqueline’s plan. Should I schedule something with your assistant?”
Kent clears his throat, taking a step back. “My assistant seems to be out this morning. She must be ill.”
“That’s the worst. My assistant just went on maternity leave, and my job is so much harder without her. We don’t realize how much we depend on them until they’re gone, right?”
“Right. But I’m sure mine will be back tomorrow,” he says with his hands tucked behind his back.
“Lucky you. What time should I come back?”
“I have an opening at three.”
Hmm. A little later than I was hoping. “Three it is!” I walk to the door, then look back, arching my brow at Kent who hasn’t moved from his spot. “Don’t worry, Kent. This is going to be fun.”
FOUR
Kent
Seriously? SERIOUSLY? Of all the women in the entire world who could’ve shown up today, Liz is the one sitting at the table. The day after my father strictly forbid me to get involved with any client. Un-fucking-believable.
And what’s worse is I agreed to work with her. Why would I do that? It took everything I had not to take her in my arms, lay her down on the conference room table, and slip off that sexy black top she was wearing. And we were only together for ten minutes! I can’t remember the last time the universe was so cruel.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I glance at the screen. It’s my dad’s office calling. “Hello?”
“Kent, it’s Beatrice.”
“Yes, Beatrice,” I say with a dry tone, clenching my jaw.
“Your father would like to see you as soon as possible.”
Oh, great. What else has gone wrong? “I’m on my way.”
On the ride to the top floor, I’m all by myself, so I ball my fists and punch a few jabs in the air like I’m warming up for a fight. Today, I’ll be better prepared for whatever he wants to throw at me.
Without stopping, I pass his assistant’s desk. “Hello, Beatrice.”
“Kent,” she mutters curtly.
I push through the door. “Two days in a row, Dad? It must be my lucky week.”
He doesn’t hint at a smile. “I wouldn’t quite say that. Sit down. I want to talk to you about something.”
I take a seat without another word, bracing myself for the worst.
“I spoke with the attorneys today, and they made a suggestion about improving your image that could help with this case.” He settles back in his chair, interlacing his fingers on the desk.
“And what’s that?” I ask. My tone isn’t dry this time, but my mouth definitely is.
“A fiancée.”
“A fiancée? You want me to get married to improve my image?” I raise my voice with a twisted expression. So much for bracing for the worst. Now, I’m in hell and Dad’s the devil. “You can’t be serious.”
He grits his teeth as if he’s the one suffering here. “Not married. Engaged—a mock engagement to give the illusion that you’re settled. An upstanding English gentleman.” He loves to use that phrase with my brothers and me—upstanding English gentleman. As if that’s all he ever wanted us to demonstrate to the world.
I rub my hand down my face. “A pretend engagement? Really?”
“Just until after the lawsuit is behind us. Plus, your younger brother is getting married and it might distract everyone from what happened at Mick’s fiasco of a wedding.” My younger brother Drew just got engaged to a woman he’s known for six months, while my older brother Mick had to call off his wedding. “Also, it could earn you points with the board of directors.” That’s his way of saying that I’ll earn points with him and keep my job.
“I can’t believe this,” I mutter.
“Don’t look so distraught. It could be worse. I could just fire you.” And there he goes again, dangling the carrot. I wouldn’t be surprised if he calls me in here tomorrow demanding I do some other ridiculous thing, like see a therapist. Or else.
I sigh, my shoulders sinking with all my hopes of a happy life. “And I suppose you’ve handpicked someone already.”
“Not yet. Finding someone we can trust in this city is easier said than done.”
“That’s because this idea is ludicrous.”
“Your behavior is ludicrous,” he snaps back. “And it wouldn’t hurt for you to start taking this problem seriously. The plaintiff certainly is.”
I sigh.
If I’m going to be engaged, I’d at least like to have a say. Maybe we can hire one of those lingerie models or a famous actress. Or Liz. From what I can tell, I wouldn’t mind being engaged to her for a while. But she’s a client, so I’m sure that’s way out. Then it hits me. Dad wants me to be serious, this is it. “Actually, I may know the perfect woman for the job.”
He shoots me a biting stare, clearly unconvinced. “Who is she?”
“She’s an actress from Los Angeles. But she hasn’t landed any major roles so no one really knows her.”
Dad’s forehead wrinkles. “You want to hire an American actress to be your fiancée?”
“Yeah, she’s my friend.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how true they are. Dahlia Jacobs may be my first genuine female friend ever. I met her in New York when I was attending Drew’s first art show. She was at the bar wearing this sexy little red number. We had a good time that night . . . until our clothes started to come off. Maybe it was because we had too much to drink, but we kept fumbling around each other, knocking foreheads, missing each other’s mouths, that kinda thing. So we never went through with it that night. Instead, we agreed to be friends, which I didn’t think would even last the rest of the night. But somehow, we managed to keep in touch. The last I talked to her was a couple of weeks ago. She wasn’t landing any auditions then. I bet she could use the cash. Hopefully, her boyfriend won’t mind.
“And you think we can trust her?” he asks, and I know immediately that he’s actually considering it. Finally, something going my way.
“Absolutely.”
He rubs his hand across his chin, pursing his mouth the way he does when he’s weighing a decision. “Okay. Talk to her, and if she agrees, I’ll have the family attorney iron out the details. But she’ll need to come to London right away. You two need to be seen together yesterday.”
“I’ll call her today.” Now if I can only figure out how to approach the subject of a fake engagement without seeming like I’ve gone mad.
“Good,” h
e says. “Now get back to work. You’re an associate down and you’ve got a new client on your hands.”
Nice to know he’s keeping tabs on me. I rise to my feet and take a deep breath, but my shoulders feel heavier than usual. Women used to be an escape from my troubles, now they’re my biggest problem.
“One more thing,” he says before I reach the door. “You have a new assistant. Someone who won’t tempt you into trouble.”
So that’s why my assistant didn’t show up today. I grit my teeth, wanting to stomp my foot in protest. “Do you have any idea how disruptive it is for my business when I have to train a new assistant?”
“Well, if you had kept it in your pants, none of this would’ve happened. You’re lucky I’m not putting you on probation!” he barks.
For a split second, I think about what he’d say if I saved him the trouble and just quit. I’d no longer be under his thumb, and his threats would have no power over me. But I don’t say anything. Instead, I swallow whatever pride I have left and walk out. As much as I can’t stand working for him, I need to stay strong if I want to be named CEO and take this company to the next level in the future. And I do want that. How else will I get him to see what I can really do?
When I make it back to my office, my new assistant is already sitting at her desk. Initially, I assumed that Dad had hired a young guy. But this woman is the exact opposite. Dressed in a navy-blue suit with shoulder pads, her white hair is twirled atop her head like a swirl of vanilla ice cream. From what I can tell, she’s about the same age as Beatrice. She seems to be enchanted by something on her computer screen, gazing at it with her wide smile stretched into her rosy cheeks.
I approach the desk carefully and wave. “Hello.”
She gasps, jolting from her computer trance as if I’ve awoken her from sleep. “Oh, my.” She looks up and down the hall. “Where did you come from?”
“I’m Kent Bonnaire. Your new employer.” I extend my hand.
